


my body moves in languages only you speak

by vulfen (SublimeDiscordance)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Aftercare, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, M/M, Mild D/s, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-13
Updated: 2017-09-13
Packaged: 2018-12-27 17:10:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12085542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SublimeDiscordance/pseuds/vulfen
Summary: Sometimes, Isaac needs someone to make him stop thinking for a little while. He knows a certain former alpha more than willing to help.





	my body moves in languages only you speak

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DefaltManifesto](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DefaltManifesto/gifts).



> Title from "Say It" by Echos.
> 
> For my dear friend who's had too much shit in their life lately.

Isaac hisses between his teeth, pleasure tingling up his spine in glittering waves. Readjusts himself in Derek’s lap, hips shifting slowly but insistently, until Derek’s cock is grinding against that spot inside of him that makes him see stars in the blackness.

“Open your eyes for me.”

He complies without even thinking about it. The werelight of the moon illuminates the night-drenched room brightly enough for his enhanced vision to make out details as if it were full daylight. He can count every scratchy strand of stubble on Derek’s jaw. Can see the way the muscles of Derek’s neck flutter as his head tilts. Can read the small uptick of the corners of Derek’s lips that mean he’s fighting a smile.

“Good boy.”

Beneath him, Isaac feels Derek’s hips move, the motion too fast for him to prepare himself, before the stars in his vision explode into small galaxies. Strong hands grip his hips hard enough to bruise if he were still human, and Derek’s setting up a fast-paced rhythm that pushes Isaac’s breath from his lungs. He feels sparks running everywhere over his skin, pooling in his chest, replacing the lost air, making him feel lighter.

It feels like he’s going to fly away, soaring higher and higher until the air is too thin to breathe. Fingers scrabble at Derek’s chest, trying to find purchase in the smooth planes of muscle, trying to find some way to keep himself from drifting. The hands on his hips grip tighter, almost painfully so, grounding him, and Isaac feels his own fingers grip the backs of those calloused palms in silent thanks.

(Never around him, never _surrounding_ him like those arms could, always holding him close without making him feel trapped, always—)

“Isaac, open your eyes again.”

His eyes fly open, staring sightlessly at the ceiling, the whorls and patterns in the paint. He can hear a low keening sound somewhere. It takes him a moment to realize it’s him, that he’s making breathy noises every time Derek’s cock slides over his prostate, electricity zinging through his body.

Something hot lays itself against his jaw— _a hand_ , his mind distantly, almost clinically notes. Derek’s motions still, sheathed completely in Isaac’s body, the weight of him throbbing deep and pleasurable somewhere Isaac can almost reach if he presses his hands low on his belly.

“Look at me.”

Derek isn’t using his alpha voice. Not the Alpha voice, capital A, that could force compliance when Derek still had his red eyes, but neither is he using that tone he’s always seemed to have that softly but insistently gives orders that are listened to and not questioned. Instead the words are soft. Gentle. Though, really, they aren’t quite a request, either. More like a desire. A want. And Isaac can’t help but give in to that desire, can’t help but give Derek exactly what he wants.

(Like he always does.)

It takes Isaac several seconds to slowly tear his gaze down and redirect it towards his former alpha. When he does, Derek’s eyes are the same blazing blue as the bottom of a candle flame, filled with something even hotter. They ignite something inside of Isaac, something that has him twisting and squirming on the length of Derek’s cock where it’s still embedded in his guts. He can feel the cold of air rushing into his lungs as he gasps. The hand on his jaw keeps him from looking away. Keeps him from rising and falling and grinding onto the delicious heat that’s pressing against that one spot inside of him that drives him fucking _wild_. A whine pulls its way out of his throat, distorted by the way Isaac can feel himself panting to try to cool the heat deep, deep inside. Can practically taste the air the way his tongue is lolling nearly out of his mouth. For some reason, that makes Derek smile, toothy and bright in the darkness.

“I know, pup. Me too.”

Isaac’s pleasure-hazed mind doesn’t even have time to wonder at that, because then Derek is moving again, is pulling out of him—is _lifting him up_ —and then slamming back in. Isaac’s panting whines become full-on vocalizations, though his brain can’t seem to piece together anything resembling coherent words. He can feel them, their meaning, flitting around the edge of his awareness, but his mind is too far gone, too strung out on pleasure and _giving in_ to focus on it long enough to make a difference.

He reaches for his dick where it’s slapping against his stomach with the force of Derek’s movements, but feels his hand be gently but insistently pushed away. He manages a sound of complaint, but then another hot palm is wrapping around him. It encloses him, smearing precome over his skin. Makes all the racing sparks, the feeling of static clinging to his skin, suddenly burn through Isaac’s veins, searing his nerve endings even as Derek’s thrusts turn into long, powerful motions instead of short, rapid ones. Fuck, he can feel a different kind of pressure, this one bordering on the edge of painful, building up in his guts, lifting him until he’s balanced on that knife’s edge and—

Derek’s thumb brushes over the head of his cock, rough pad tracing the underside of the flared rim with deliberate pressure. Isaac’s already lost by the time Derek whispers, “Come for me, Isaac,” into the night air between them. Distantly, he’s aware of a sharp pain in his shoulder, of the unmistakable feeling of Derek’s cock throbbing hot and deep within him, and it occurs to him that Derek is coming as well. As soon as it occurs to him, though, he’s lost to greater heights, his vision blacking out completely, his senses lost to an endless haze of light and love that caresses him in soft waves.

By the time he’s aware of himself again, Derek is softening inside of him, and is is slowly, almost seductively licking his own hand clean. Isaac makes a low rumble deep in his chest, which Derek interprets correctly through long practice. He slips himself free of Isaac, and Isaac suppresses the brief pang of loss long enough for Derek to gently lay him on his back and begin running his tongue over Isaac’s body, cleaning him. Words are whispered against his flesh in the wake of that tongue, soft praises that make Isaac’s body feel like it’s shrinking to fit inside of his skin again, warm and flushed. Derek disappears for a few seconds before climbing back in bed beside him, strong, steady hands lifting Isaac’s legs as a cool cloth finishes the job of wiping him clean. Those same hands softly but resolutely maneuver him onto his stomach, his arms and legs splayed carelessly, and then trace patterns down Isaac's spine. Always gentle, always careful to not enclose him, to not trap him—just a comforting presence, freely offered.

“Mm, thanks,” Isaac mumbles into his pillow, blinking sleeping at Derek, contentment weighing him down, making him feel three hundred pounds heavier. He can still feel Derek, the remnants of him, deep inside, glowing like embers. Can feel the knowledge that he’s going to smell like Derek for _days_ , both inside and out, encircling on him like a warm blanket. “Needed that.”

Derek leans forward, his smile loopy, and his lips find Isaac’s. It’s not much of a kiss, the way Isaac’s face is only half-visible, but it still means everything if Isaac’s honest with himself.

“I know you did. What’s pack for?”

It takes everything Isaac has, but he manages to lift an arm and smack Derek on the ass. He may or may not leave it there. Whatever. His limbs feel like lead, and he’s sure Derek doesn’t mind.

“Shuddup. Love you, asshole.”

Above his smile, Derek’s eyes pulse with a faint glow. His face tinges pink—faint, but still visible even in this light—and he buries his face in his own pillow.

“Love you, too.”

Isaac feels those words catch on something deep in his chest, resonating like a gong. He falls asleep with them still echoing in his ears, a small smile pulling at the corners of his mouth, and the feeling of Derek’s forearm thrown carelessly across his shoulder blades.

 

 


End file.
